Word from the General

Like an eggbeater marching through a bowl of Wheaties, Air Force Lieut. Colonel Charles H. Platt Jr. led his wife and four children through the crowded, throbbing Military Air Transport Service terminal at suburban Tokyo's Tachikawa Airport, largest military airbase in Japan. MATS clerks straightened, for Colonel Platt was notable local brass: he was commanding officer of the MATS terminal. Off on a 14-day leave in Hawaii, Platt called for booking--six seats--on the Pacific Express, a 41-passenger C-118 due out within minutes on a U.S.-bound milk run.

A clerk pointed out that the flight was already overbooked. Colonel Platt knew--but the clerk did not--that two inbound planes from Korea were delayed and that at least eight passengers on them were going to miss their connections with the Pacific Express. Irritably, Platt changed his request to an order. Panicky, the MATS men took an easy out, bumped seven emergency-furlough passengers--one lieutenant and six enlisted men--off the Pacific Express passenger list to make way for the colonel, his family and luggage. When some of the victims tried to plead their emergency problems--a dead son, a dying sister, a mother's funeral, etc.--the colonel turned his back, gathered up his family, marched to the loading ramp.

Magic Number. As the Pacific Express roared down the runway into the night, six of the bounced airmen clustered around a Red Cross worker in Colonel Platt's terminal. At Red Cross suggestion, A/1C Cole Y. Bell, trying to make it to an injured brother's bedside at Fort Campbell, Ky., tried to telephone the Fifth Air Force inspector general's office, with no luck. At that point a veteran sergeant suggested: "Why don't you call General Burns? If anyone can help you, he can. I used to serve under him, and he's all right." Swallowing hard, Airman Bell found the home telephone number of Lieut. General Robert Whitney Burns. When a housekeeper answered, Bell asked to speak to the commanding officer of U.S. forces in Japan.

Grey -haired, cigar -chewing Bobby Burns, bemedaled 31-year Air Force veteran, heard Bell out, called the terminal to verify his story, then rang up Tachikawa tower. To the Pacific Express, already a hundred miles out, sparked a cryptic radio message: return to base. At first the pilot protested, but Tachikawa transmitted an unmilitary postscript: "You'd better do it, sir, or the general says he will have your plane brought back under air escort."

Large Legend. Turning back unescorted, the C-118 jettisoned 1,800 gallons of fuel so that it could touch down safely at Tachikawa. There it found a one-man, three-star welcoming committee on hand. General Burns had driven eight miles from his home in Fuchu to put the Platts off, put the bumped airmen back on, and order an investigation. Last week, the investigation over, a six-officer board blamed "administrative error," found Platt innocent of bumping the G.I.s, pointed to the fact that the Pacific Express had indeed gone off with eight empty seats--just as the colonel knew it would.

But, the board added: "By his actions Colonel Platt contributed to the confusion which caused the administrative error." And no one had to add that, by his actions, General Burns had etched large a legend that would endure as long as armed forces are made up of officers and enlisted men.

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